The Wicked Within (4 page)

I’d seen Violet do something similar before, and, like before, witnessing her violent nature firsthand was startling. Dazed, I glanced away and saw Sebastian striding into the house and toward me, blue energy forming over his hands so fast, the wind of it hit me as he gathered it to him. His gray eyes burned with intent, his face grim and his aura lethal.

I felt a minion at my back and ducked, just as Sebastian let fly his power. It hit the creature dead on, sending a shower of spent energy radiating overhead and leaving a glop of flesh behind.

As I spun back around, another minion came up behind
Violet as she released her now dead minion. I ran forward, jumped over the body she’d dropped, and landed in a puddle of black blood. I slipped right past her and between the oncoming minion’s legs, grabbing an ankle as I went and flipping the creature off its feet. I scrambled up and stabbed it in the heart.

It was the last kill, and quiet descended again, broken only by the sound of our heavy breathing. We stared at the scene, taking stock. The attack had happened so fast. . . . I thought I’d have more time before Athena sent her goons after us. And honestly, I hoped, despite what the River Witch had said, that I’d dealt the goddess a death blow during our last battle. I’d stabbed Athena with my father’s blade, which had channeled my gorgon power. My power had gone straight into Athena’s chest and begun to turn her to stone.

The minions tonight were a sure sign I’d failed.

Apparently the witch was right.

Dub was the first to move. He sat down on the stairs. “Wow.” His skin had gone a little pale. He rubbed his face as though he knew it, as though trying to stir his blood and bring himself back to normal—well, as normal as Dub could be.

I didn’t need to look in the mirror to know I looked just as frazzled. I felt it in the shaky muscles, in the numbness and the chill in my skin. I straightened, pulling my blade from the dead creature at my feet.

Deep, even breaths.
That’s what Bran would say after one of our grueling training sessions at Presby. Slow and easy. My gaze stuck on Sebastian as he bent down and picked up Violet’s mask, which had come off during the fight. He handed it to her and then faced me.

Nice of him to finally show up.

Ever since he’d become a full-fledged vamp, I’d expected Sebastian to go through some rough spots. Yet he hardly acknowledged he’d changed, even though the stress was written plainly on his face. It was in the haunted shadows lurking in his eyes, the tight set of his jaw, and the tension that radiated all around him. He was becoming more and more reclusive, withdrawing from me and the kids. Avoiding. I wished to God he’d lean on me, let me in, let me help in some way.

Footsteps echoed from the porch outside, drawing my thoughts away from Sebastian. As a group, we straightened, ready for the next onslaught.

Brown suede boots stepped over the corpse blocking the threshold. The boots went all the way up to the knees. Bare thighs. Leather skirt. Bow and arrows peeked over her shoulders. I blew a strand of hair from my eyes, relieved it wasn’t another attack and yet wary as to what drama would unfold next.

Menai, daughter of Artemis, stood in the foyer. The tall, red-haired, sarcastic demigod—or god, depending on who her father
was—surveyed the scene. She lifted an arched eyebrow as her earthy green gaze settled on me. Full lips quirked into a smile. “Still kicking ass and taking names, I see.”

I wiped the bloody blade on the back of one of the minions and then slid it into its sheath. “The only name I care about is your aunt’s.”

Another figure, dressed in a tight black tank and black stretch pants paired with tall combat boots, stepped over the corpse. I recognized Melinoe immediately. It was hard not to; the daughter of Hades definitely left an impression. Melinoe’s skin was two different colors. Her left side was coal black and her right side was a ghostly white. She parted her hair in the middle, and it followed the same colors as her body. She looked split in two. Black and white. Her eyes, though, were both an eerie, light bluish gray.

Violet walked right up to Melinoe and regarded her like an interesting specimen she’d found in the swamp. “You’re two different colors.”

Melinoe looked down slowly. Even the way she moved was eerie. “And you are but one.”

Violet nodded thoughtfully and tested the name on her tongue. “Meh-lin-oh-way. You were at the temple.”

“I was.”

“You’re Death’s daughter.”

“I am.” Melinoe lifted her white arm. “With this hand I can rip your soul from your body and send it to the Underworld, leaving you but a shell, a ghost of your former self. With this hand”—she lifted the black one—“I can destroy that soul.” Her fist closed. “Crush it until it’s nothing but ash. No Underworld. No afterlife. Nothing.”

Violet cocked her head and stared at her for a long moment. “Cool.”

And then she skipped back into the kitchen, leaving us all a little dumbfounded. Typical Violet. Melinoe’s lips twisted into a shadow of a smile as she watched Violet disappear.

“Were you shittin’ her?” Dub asked. “Can you really do that?”

Melinoe’s eyes went narrow and shrewd. She lifted her white hand and took a step toward him. “Want to find out, human?”

Dub ran.

Melinoe’s smile broadened.

Menai elbowed her in the ribs. “Knock it off, Mel.”

Death’s daughter shrugged.

Menai stepped farther into the room and surveyed the damage. “Sorry about the mess. Our τέρας tend to get a little carried away.”

“I’m sure you told them to be on their best behavior,” Henri said with a frown.

“Where would the fun be in that? It’s not like I
told
them to
attack.” Of course she hadn’t. She’d said nothing, knowing they’d be true to their nature and hunt. Menai did Athena’s bidding, but she didn’t like it or chose it, and she probably figured seven less minions around the better.

My fists clenched with the desire to hit her smirking face. Playing with the lives of my friends wasn’t something I appreciated. I was quickly learning that the gods, even the benevolent ones, had very little understanding of how short and precious and fragile human life really was. Easy to forget when you’re immortal.

My ribs ached, and pain pulsed through the bite on my shoulder and along my back where I’d slammed against the wall. I went to the stairs and sat down, feeling pretty damn disappointed that I hadn’t destroyed Athena.

Menai being here now meant she’d been sent. And I was pretty sure I knew what came next. “So what’s she want?” I asked tiredly, flexing my sore wrist.

Menai’s gaze lingered on Sebastian. “Last time I saw you, vampire, you were”—she grinned—“hard as a rock.”

One of Sebastian’s eyebrows arched with amusement. Whatever. I bet she’d been waiting
days
just to say that.

It was true, though; he had been stone. . . .

“Unfortunately, Auntie Athena is not dead,” Menai went on. “She’s in a world of hurt, which is nice for a change. But she has
those who are loyal to her, and she is fighting your curse, Ari, and slowly winning.”

I rubbed my neck. “And . . . ?”

“Recall your power from her body. Once the Hands are found, she wants you to resurrect her child. In return she will untangle the curse placed upon you.”

I let out a laugh. And there it was. In the span of a few hours, two offers to lift my curse where before that notion had seemed like an impossibility.

“There is no one more able to set you free than the one who cursed you in the first place,” Melinoe added.

I shared a glance with Sebastian. Anger swirled in his eyes. We both wanted Athena to pay for her crimes. She’d not only hurt us both, but she had also killed so many of her own monstrous creations, turning on them, using them, torturing them. . . . We had a better understanding of why she’d gone nuts and killed or imprisoned most of the Greek pantheon, including her own father and several brothers and sisters, and then going on to wage war on other pantheons. Her father had attempted to murder Athena’s infant child. But none of that knowledge diminished what she had done. None of it.

It killed me that I’d stood right in front of that broken statue known as the Hands of Zeus. I’d looked upon those strong marble hands holding a basket with an infant child, and had
never known the significance. Never known those hands were the
actual
hands of Zeus holding Athena’s infant child, frozen in stone by one of my ancestors, and then broken off from the rest of Zeus’s body and hidden inside Anesidora’s Jar.

Athena wanted the Hands because she thought I could bring her child back to life. And she might be right. I had all the power of a gorgon, but I could also bring back to flesh that which had been turned to stone. I’d only done it once, and the result of that effort was standing by me with a frown on his handsome face.

“And once I’m fully human and she’s healed, I’ll be dead with the flick of her wrist. No thanks.”

“She said you’d say that,” Menai responded. “Athena is willing to offer blood-bound vows to leave you and anyone you name unharmed. I would suggest thinking long and hard about that, for your wording must be perfect. But she will make the vow, Ari. If you’re the one to find the Hands, you’ll have something she’d die for, has started wars for, killed her own father for. You will hold power over the Goddess of War. Think about that. As a gesture, she gave this to me to give to you.” Menai handed me a glass vial filled with Athena’s blood. “When you have the Hands, use her blood to open a gateway to her temple. Or send an emissary to set terms for a meeting. You might not want to visit our neck of the woods, given what happened last
time. If the Hands are found without your help, she will send me to escort you to her temple for the resurrection.”

I took the vial. “What do you know about the Hands?”

“I was born last century, so not much.”

“And you, Melinoe?”

“I am much older. But I am forbidden to speak of it.”

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest. “Forbidden or don’t want to?”

“I speak of it and I am no more,” she said simply. “That was the vow I was forced to make to the goddess, like everyone who survived her war and ended up at her mercy.”

“Are you forbidden to talk about who Athena was involved with before the war?” I asked. “Romantically, I mean.”

Traditionally, Athena was a virgin goddess. But that was in ancient times, over two thousand years ago. And maybe back then she was, but so much of what happened between then and now was mostly unknown. One of a few things we did know was that she had given birth to a child.

“I should not speak of it,” Melinoe said slowly, as though considering the repercussions.

Figured. I stared at the vial in my hand, feeling the warmth of the blood through the glass, even though it should have been cold by now.

“So?” Menai prompted. “What should I tell her?”

I was tired, tired of all the fighting and drama. I just wanted it to be over with. Maybe the best answer was to give Athena what she wanted, so all this would just go away. “Tell her I’ll think about it. Tell her to leave us alone, and I’ll look for the Hands.”

“Good enough,” Menai said. “See you around, god-killer.”

Menai turned, coming face-to-face with Henri, who stood with his back and one boot braced against the wall. “How’s the tummy, shifter?”

His hand went to his stomach, where Athena had shot him with his own shotgun, but his gaze stayed steady on Menai. Henri was definitely into her. “It hurts. You want to rub it?”

She laughed. Menai stepped up to him, cupped his jaw and kissed him right on the mouth, and then sauntered out of the house, leaving Henri shocked and infinitely pleased. “Hell, if I knew getting shot in the belly was all it took to get her attention, I’d have done it sooner.”

Melinoe followed Menai, but as she went to step over the body by the door, she stopped and knelt by the creature. “Still clinging to life,” she murmured with a soothing voice, like an angel of mercy.

The creature lifted its head, looking pathetic and hopeful. A pang of empathy went through me. I knew from experience that not all of Athena’s creatures were mindless killers. Some
were intelligent, starved for attention, or starved for an end to servitude and torture.

Mel ran her white hand over its head in a comforting gesture. The creature closed its eyes and shuddered, leaving me wondering if it had ever been touched so gently before. But it wouldn’t see the angel of mercy tonight. Mel placed her black hand over its forehead. Its body trembled, then arched up as she lifted her hand, pulling a black haze with a bit of brightness in its center from the creature’s head. When the haze withdrew completely, the creature’s body went limp and its head fell to the side.

Mel turned her hand over, staring raptly at the soul in the palm of her hand. Then she crushed it in her fist. Light spilled from the seams in her fingers and then died out. She opened her hand, glanced over at our astounded faces, and blew the ashes at us like a kiss good-bye.

An eerie silence descended in the wake of her departure.

Dub sat down beside me and let out a loud exhale. “That chick’s messed up. Makes the rest of us freaks look like the all-American family.” He shivered. “Gave me the heebie-jeebies. She’s even weirder than Vi.” He gave Violet an affectionate smile, which she returned. At some point she’d come back into the foyer, and I wondered how much she’d seen.

“I like her,” Violet remarked as she stared at the open door.

“Yeah, we could tell.”

Crank stepped over the bodies, head down, searching. She stopped and pulled her hammer from one of the minions’ skulls, made an “ick” face, and, muttering about how gross it was, took her hammer into the kitchen.

I got up, needing to shake off the creep factor Mel had left us with. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry.”

“Hungry,” Henri repeated flatly. “Standing in a room full of dead monsters and you’re
hungry
?”

“What? I worked up an appetite.”

Sebastian’s soft laugh drew my attention. “It’s not like they’re going anywhere, Henri. We can drag them into the backyard and burn them later.”